P._ Excellent. War is, no doubt, a rough and brutal affair, but
at least it cannot be said that we Prussians do not behave like
gentlemen.
_Fritz._ Your Royal Highness speaks, as always, the plain truth. How
different from the degenerate French and the intolerable English.
_The C.P._ Yes, Fritz; and now you can go. Stay; there was something I
wanted to ask you. Dear me, I am losing my memory. Ah! I have it. How is
my offensive getting on? Has any news come in from the _Chemin des
Dames_?
_Fritz._ Your Royal Highness's offensive has not advanced to any great
extent. The French last night recaptured all their positions and even
penetrated into ours.
_The C.P._ Did they? How very annoying. Somebody bungled, of course.
Well, well, I shall have to put it right when I have time. Have you
finished laying out my uniform? Yes. Then you can go.
* * * * *
THE HUMILIATION OF THE PALFREY.
Where is she now, the pride of the battalion,
That ambled always at the Colonel's side,
A fair white steed, like some majestic galleon
Which takes deliberate the harbour tide,
So soft, so slow, she scarcely seems to stir?
And that, indeed, was very true of her
Who was till late, so kind her character,
The only horse the Adjutant could ride.
Ever she led the regiment on its journeys,
And held sweet converse with the Colonel's gee:
Of knights, no doubt, and old heroic tourneys,
And how she bare great ladies o'er the lea;
And on high hill-sides, when the men felt dead,
Far up the height they viewed her at the head,
A star of hope, and shook themselves, and said,
"If she can do it, dammit, so can we!"
But where is now my Adjutantial palfrey?
In front no longer but in rear to-day,
Behind the bicycles, and not at all free
To be familiar with the General's gray,
She walks in shame with all those misanthropes,
The sad pack-animals who have no hopes
But must by men be led about on ropes,
Condemned till death to carry S.
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